#nothing dramatic i just got tired of looking at the same thing and creative cloud is spoiling me

[lovetaled-a]

graphics aren’t aura-core if they’re not ts lyrics

[a-little-dreamer-s-world]

My Dear Brother

Hey guys! Sorry for being AWOL with my writing for a while. My mental health hasn’t been the best lately :( However! I did watch the new episode! And I had an idea for a story! This is going to be in the same vein as another story of mine Are We Cool? so I hope y’all enjoy!

@sympathetic-deceit-trash @fangirltothefullest @bluebloodstains @randomslasher  I figured you guys might like to read this maybe??

Warnings!: Possible spoilers for the newest Sanders Sides episode, sympathetic Remus, sympathetic Deceit/Janus, sexual innuendos, gore mentions, odd body movements.

The motion of a brush on a canvas had always been calming to Roman. The sudden appearance of color on a plain white surface gave him a small thrill that couldn’t really be beat, other than being on stage with hundreds watching him. But in any case, the thrill that was usually there was absent now, the burning anger replacing that feeling altogether. It increased tenfold when fingers suddenly appeared at the top of his painting, crazed eyes looking down at him with a Cheshire cat grin following it. 

“Remus, get off,” he grumbled, watching the other man laugh as he let go, the blue sky of his painting having strips of paint lifted up from where Remus’s fingers have been. The other side plopped down on Roman’s bed behind him, licking his fingers of where the paint imprinted on his skin.

“Well, dear brother, you’re in quite a mood,” Remus said, crossing his legs and putting his elbows on his knee, his chin resting on his palm as he gave the man a fake pout. “What, not happy to see me?”

“As if I’m ever happy to see you,” Roman turned in his stool to face his brother, crossing his arms with the paintbrush still in hand, glaring at him.

“Aw, Roman,” Remus cooed out, reaching like he was going to pinch the other brother’s cheek. He just grinned when Roman smacked his hand away, waving his own hand from side to side like he touched something slimy.

“Temper, temper,” Remus tsked, mirroring Roman by crossing his arms.

“Look, Remus, as much as you like to pester me into doing one of your messed up ‘adventures’, I’m in no mood to deal with you right now.” Roman turned back around to continue with his painting, flinching back when the scenic picture he had been painting just a moment was replaced with a graphic depiction of a head on the end of a stake staring back at him.

He growled out as he stood up with his brother laughing behind him, tossing the paintbrush to the ground as he pushed the easel over. The image dissipated back into his original painting once it hit the ground, not without creating a tear into the canvas. He let out a dramatic sigh, moving back to flop down on his bed. 

Remus was still there, laying down on his stomach with his legs kicking in the air. His hair was an absolute rat’s nest, but that was nothing new. “My, you are in a mood,” Remus mused as he stared at his brother, who had his eyes closed. “Was today’s video not wanting to focus on poor Roman?”

“That’s not it at all,” Roman said, keeping his eyes closed. “It’s...It’s that snake’s fault! He’s been messing with us for all this time, and then he said that his name was Janice, as if Thomas would believe—”

“Wait a minute, Janus told you his name?” Remus interrupted, his eyes getting impossibly wider as he leaned in closer to him. “Oh, tell me about that~”

“Wait, you knew?” Roman sat up in his bed, looking down at his brother with a frown. It was from this angle he realized that Remus’s morning star was leaning against the wall next to his bed, something he was surprised he hadn’t realize sooner. “I thought he was lying again when he said that his name was Janice?”

“Not Janice, dear brother, Janus,” Remus corrected him, sitting up as well. “Like the god with two faces! Oh, I wonder since he had two faces, would he have two di-”

“Focus, Duke, focus,” Roman said, snapping his fingers in front of the other’s face. His brother blinked a few times, bringing his head forward to snap his teeth right next to the hand before looking at him. “Now, how did you know that’s his name? You weren’t there with us for the video!”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, Princey.” Remus wagged his finger in Roman’s face, that grin shit-eating grin not leaving him. “You might have forgotten, but I’m unfiltered! Nothing gets past me and nothing is held back. I just choose to forget the stuff I think is too boring to remember until I have to bring it up.”

 Roman frowned at him, letting out a huff. “But that’s not the problem! The problem is that he’s evil! He’s done so much to hurt Thomas, and now Thomas thinks that he should be part of the group? That we should forgive him?”

Remus had his head tilted to the side at an unnatural angle, a sight that hadn’t creeped Roman out in a long time. The thing that was freaky about it was the look that the darker side was giving him; he looked thoughtful, like he was taking apart his words to think over what he said. “Brother, dear, let me ask you something.”

“What? Is it going to be about how I want to do something nasty to Deceit? Or make him eat something disgusting you created?” Roman spat out, trying to hide how weirded out he felt.

“No, for once. What I want to ask is simple: Do you see me as evil?”

Roman sputtered a bit, looking at his brother in surprise. He looked for a sign of a lie, a flash of a sharp-toothed grin to show that Remus was pulling his leg. After an awkward silence filled the room where they just stared at each other, he looked away to rub the back of his neck. “Well, no, I don’t think you’re evil...”

Remus looked a bit surprised by the answer, saying, “But aren’t I worse than Janus? I’m ruled by desire; if Thomas didn’t have any self-control or any shame, then I wouldn’t have stayed away from your silly videos until he was too exhausted to keep me at bay.”

“Yeah, but you’re different! You’re...You’re...” He trailed off, trying to think of what he wanted to say.

“I’m not part of the group,” Remus said, looking at him with the closest thing to a serious look that Roman had seen on him in a long time. “And my input isn’t wanted, nor do I think it ever will be,” he added, and Roman could have sworn he saw a flash of sadness in his eyes before it was gone, his grin coming back.  “Roman, I can’t help with whatever sexual tension you two have—”

“It’s not sexual tension, my god, have you been listening?”

“But don’t let it get in the way of what’s true,” Remus ignored him. “Janus is in the forefront of Thomas’s mind now, and there’s nothing to stop that. You’re stuck with him, so you two can either make up and make out, or you can ignore him until your feelings override and you two fu-”

“I’m not letting you finish that,” Roman said sharply, causing his brother to laugh maniacally. Roman huffed as he got off his bed, going back to pick the now dry painting off the floor, waving his hand over where the tear in the canvas. Almost by magic, the tear fixed itself, looking like nothing had happened to it at all.

“Either way, whatever happens, you might want to give a quick look at what you think is ‘evil’.” Remus’s arm was on his shoulder now, though when Roman looked behind him, he could see that Remus was only just then getting off his bed with his arm stretched out to touch him. Once he reached him, Remus looked at Roman with a raised brow and finished, “Because if you don’t think I’M evil, then you might need to really think about what evil is to you.”

Roman blinked a couple of times before he slowly nodded, a tired little smile coming to him. “I...I’ll think about it.”

“Good... now, would you like to follow me to that juicy tunnel that I found that I’ve been calling the Glory Ho-”

“Get out of here, Dukey,” Roman snorted out, pushing away a giggling Remus who was finally going to his bedroom door. Just before he left, he turned to look at Roman and said, “Oh, and one last thing.”

The creative side glanced back at his darker brother, who simply pointed in his direction. “I fixed your painting!” 

“What? No you did- AH!” He had turned to see what he meant when he saw a sight worse than the one that Remus had made appear earlier: it was painting of a naked Aunt Patty.

“Why?! Why would you do that?” Roman cried out as he covered his eyes, and even though he couldn’t see him, he could practically hear the grin spreading on his face. 

“It’s the one thing you can’t unsee!” he cackled before he pranced out, his morning star picking itself up to follow him out. 

Roman cautiously looked past his fingers, seeing that his painting was back to normal. He let out a weary sigh as he picked his paintbrush off the floor, the brush primed with the shade of blue he needed to fix the sky that Remus had messed up. When he finished, he took a step back to examine his work.

The picture was of him, Logan, Patton, Virgil, and Thomas, all laying on a hill while cloud gazing. He examined the painting for a few minutes, nodding slowly before he went back to painting, his singular paintbrush changing colors to the one he needed at the moment.

The next time he stopped was when he was called down by Patton to eat dinner, leaving it behind. He would find out that night that Patton was briefly stopped by Remus to ask about him, and had gone to check on him instead. He would also De- Janus come in at some point, making himself a plate before leaving with it and only giving the four sides a nod. And he’d have to help Logan and Patton calm Virgil down from getting up to possibly deck him, much to the other two’s surprise.

And then there was Remus, who had snuck back into brother’s room with a rare soft smile on his lips, looking at a painting of all of them on a hill to watch the clouds go by, with him right there in between Janus and Roman.

[demigodemery]

Triple prompt extravaganza! All prompts by transformationloveb

Actually incredibly proud of this one for some reason.

TW: pills, graphic and possibly somewhat inaccurate suicide by overdose, suicide, death, Unintentionally unsympathetic Virgil.

~~~~~

   "I want to kill myself." Roman tells Virgil expecting him to try and help, but instead he just scoffs, an annoyed expression on his face.

   "Stop being so dramatic, Princey," Virgil says, "Just because you're sad doesn't mean you're suicidal. That's an actual problem for people." the other sides were now tuned into their conversation.

    "You say that and yet when I tell you I want to die, you tell me I'm being dramatic." Roman replies. "I guess they were right. People only listen to you when you're dead." with that Roman turns around and heads to his room, ready to finally do what he's been wanting to for so long.

Everyone else was speechless, all thinking the same thing: was Roman actually about to go kill himself?

They quickly got Thomas and explained what had transpired. Together they went to Romans room, or tried to anyway, Roman must have locked the door, for they ended up outside his room, instead of in where the wanted to be.

Roman ran to his room and locked the door behind him, he couldn't do this anymore, he couldn't live anymore.

He could hear the other sides, and Thomas, banging on his door, and yelling for him to let them in and not do this but he ignored them.

He walked into his bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, taking out a pill bottle.

He opened the bottle and downed all the pills, at first nothing happened, then he felt a burning like acid in his stomach, before long he was on his knees, he was shaking and sweating, he felt light headed and his ears were ringing. He could still hear his friends at the door, but they sounded so far away. He felt so tired. At some point he had fallen so he was lying on the floor, his vision was fuzzy and there were black dots floating before his eyes, another wave of exhaustion, and he let his eyes fall closed as the others finally broke through the door.

   "Can't we just break down the door?" Thomas asked.

   "No, one of us needs to go get Remus, he's the only other one who can open Romans door, as he too is creativity." Logan explained, he was still trying to act emotionless, even though it was clear to everyone he was just as scared and concerned as they were.

It was agreed that Virgil should be the one to get Remus, as he would have a better chance of convincing him to help.

So Virgil set out alone down the dark side corridor, he knew he had to hurry but he couldn't because he didn't want to get stuck in one of Remus' traps.

Once he got to Remus' room he knocked, but there was no response, so he headed to the dark side living room, where he found Remus and Janus playing some Zombie video game.

   "Virgil?! What are you doing here?!?" Remus asked once he noticed him.

   "I need you to break into Romans room, he's trying to kill himself and we can't get to him!" Virgil informed.

Janus instantly paused the game and him and Remus led the way back to the light side corridor and Romans room.

As soon as they reached Romans door, Remus summoned his morning-star and used it to break down the door.

Everyone ran into the room and then to Romans bathroom, Roman was un-moving on the floor, an empty pill bottle next to him. 

Patton quickly knelt next him, "Wake up, Roman!" he pleaded but he didn't as much as twitch. Logan knelt on the other side, checking for a pulse, after a few moments he looked up at the other with tear filled eyes, he shook his head, letting them know Roman was gone.

   "No. No he can't be dead!" Janus said, taking Patton's spot, who was now sobbing into Virgils hoodie. He started to shake Roman, "Wake up! ROMAN, PLEASE JUST WAKE UP! Don't leave me..." he sobbed into the dead sides chest. 

Remus knelt next to Janus, gently pulling him away, before placing his hand on Romans chest, right over his heart, "Remus, what are you-" Logan started to ask, but Remus glared at him.

   "I need to concentrate," Remus told Logan. He closed his eyes and Roman started to glow red with a tinge of green. After a moment the glow disappeared and Remus fell backwards, before Janus caught him.

Nothing happened for a few seconds then Roman gasped and sat up, looking around in confusion at everyone, his eyes still clouded slightly, he opened his mouth as of to say something then lunged for the toilet. Everyone looked away as he emptied the pills from his system.

Janus was the first to hug him, after handing a still weak Remus over to Logan. But soon Everyone else joined the hug as well.

After that everyone went out of their way to let Roman know they really did love him, especially Janus.

~~~~~

And that's it, I hope you like this because it was probably my favorite one to write, I don't know why.

Written: 7-5-2020

Word count: 840

[blueyemxn]

My Persephone (Pt. 1)

Flowers of Yesterday

Spoiler Warning: Content below contains spoilers for the lvl 80 Shadowbringers MSQ, if you have not reached this point in the game and do not wish to be spoiled please refrain from reading. Otherwise enjoy my trash shipping at your own risk.

Relationship: Emet-SelchxWoL

Ao3 Story - Here    Part Two: Here    Part Three: Here    Part Four: Here    Part Five: Here    Part Six: Here

Amaurot, city of the ancients, the city of the Ascians stood tall around her, spires reaching towards the edge of the air bubble Bismarck had created. But the thought of the pointed edges coming in contact with the bubble was the least of Nua’s concerns. She was actually more preoccupied with the haunted streets of a civilization that rang all too familiar within her mind, shades walking the same path day by day, repeating the same doom over and over. It was eerie, the detail Emet-Selch put into it. But then, with something so precious, why wouldn’t he?

“Little one, are you lost?” One of the towering Amaurotine had paused after seeing the look of contemplation on her face. Or maybe it was merely concerned since a ‘child’ was walking around by herself. A pang of irritation went through her regardless of which reasoning.

I’m always tired of them treating me like a child! Just because I haven’t grown fully yet—

The thoughts flowing through her head came to a halt, for Nua didn’t appreciate the intrusion, even when it was just a shard of memory putting itself back in place. 

An occurrence that had been happening more often lately and has served to be a well timed distraction instead of what she should be focusing on. Too many instances she nearly got cut down because of it and her fellow Scions would pester her about her mental state incessantly. But it was either enduring that or be mocked in that condescending, irritating, and yet somehow endearing way Emet-Selch would nag about her lack of attention.

It would be terribly inconvenient for you to die on us now, hero. Do try to pay attention next time, will you?

She frowned even when a part of her had the urge to do the opposite. To accept the warm feeling in her chest as it spread through her body, to embrace the fact she adored it; that she adored his attention.

“Child?” The phantom spoke again, still no impatience in their tone, forever calm and helpful. It gave a slight pain in her heart, a yearning, a homesickness.

Nua shook her head, huffing and folding her arms across her chest. “I am not lost, and I’m not a child.” 

They seem to give a soft chuckle of amusement. “I see, carry on then, but do be sure to head to him soon. He waits for you.” As if she didn’t already know that, as if she wasn’t purposely avoiding such a thing out of spite. If he really wanted to have her around him then he should just show himself already. 

The Amaurotine silently left, leaving Nua by herself once again with her thoughts. 

The Scions were still scouting around to find a way to the Capitol and so she had some time left. Time to look through this city and give into some of the bittersweet memories that came with it. And so she kept walking. Walking and walking until she was in a part of the city that was painfully familiar, a hidden sanctuary. Her instincts pointed her in a certain direction and her legs kept moving without much of her control. They followed a mysterious path, a guiding force leading her forward and away.

A path barely visible, save for the occasional flower blooming in place, put her into something of a garden. It was a small space, a place of quiet and serene atmosphere. She could hear the chirping of the birds and the babble of a small creek that ran through it. If she didn’t know any better, Nua would have thought she was back in the Black Shroud on the Source; it was wonderful. 

But now was the difficult part, entering without crushing the plants. Nua weighed her options, almost changing her mind and walking away. But her instincts persisted and her legs refused to move anywhere but forward; she sighed.

Her hands reached for her armor and piece by piece she removed it until nothing was left but her pants and tunic. Her bare feet slowly treading into the all consuming flower patch, her toes sinking into the soft soil.

It felt like a bed of clouds and when her eyes looked beyond she could see all sorts of colors that would make many of her fellow botanists gawk in awe. It was nearly as beautiful as the flower fields in Il Mheg.

Her hand instinctively extended, picking carefully at the stem of one of the flowers that popped out the most, twirling it slowly as she stared at its white petals and yellow, cup shaped corona. It tugged at her, her mind trying to piece together the significance the flower held. Or perhaps it wasn’t the flower itself, but the entire garden that was pressuring her, pressuring her to remember.

Narcissus is nice, but I like Daffodil instead. What about that, H—

“Oh come now, hero, do you honestly want to spend your last moments brooding?” Nua jolted from her dazed state, caught a bit off guard as the voice of Emet-Selch sighed dramatically behind her. “It’s terrible manners to keep a person waiting you know.” 

Her face scrunched up, not appreciating him interrupting her thoughts like that. “And it’s terrible manners for the host to make his guest go searching for him in a behemoth of a city. What, you couldn’t be bothered to greet me when I came through the front door?” She huffed at the man, but didn’t bother turning around before she started to gather more flowers. 

She heard him shift slightly and while she couldn’t hear the clicking of his shoes, his voice was certainly creeping closer. “The Warrior of Light has been seen traveling across several lands to perform her heroic deeds. What’s one city as opposed to an entire world?” 

She frowned, mainly because he was right. “If I’m going to die I would rather not have to run around fulfilling errands for shades that are nothing but illusions.” She said, though Nua certainly felt bad saying it “... Even if they serve as windows into the past.”

“A past that none of you can remember if you recall, broken as you are—” He started to say in the usual condescending tone but stopped. In an instant his head is hovering over her shoulder, golden eyes bearing down at what she had in her hands. “... A flower crown?” For once he seemed to give in to some interest, his head tilting in curiosity. Yet, within those hues of gold, there was a dim spark of recognition dwelling within the depths.

Nua looked at her hands and saw that her fingers had been, mostly, acting on their own, weaving the stems until they became a crown of flowers. It was a little surprising, but at the same time it wasn’t. Another familiarity.

“What of it?” She asked, narrowing her eyes slightly and waited. 

For a good moment he doesn’t say anything, just staring down, not blinking, not breathing, eyes half lidded and a small frown dipping on his face. He looked like he was far away, gazing into another realm, another time, another life. Without speaking a gloved hand reached for it, fingers nearly grazing the gentle petals only to stop short. His mouth attempted to move, but closed, his voice silent. It seemed like a millennia before he got the will to speak, his face reverting back to it’s normal, disappointed look after half a minute. 

“Very unembellished— simple and plain with no creative input whatsoever. Not that I’m very surprised, considering its you.” His words stung, but that stoked the fire in her breast then dampen, if that was really what he was going for insulting her like that. What right did he have to come in, unannounced and then proceed to insult her work as if it were his right?! “And daffodils? Really? We—” 

—ell it’s not the most creative name, I admit, but I guess—

Not creative?! What’s not creative about Daffodil??

Many things, would you like me to make a list? I can have it ready by tomorrow if you’d like!

HMPH! Must you always be critical of what I come up with?!

I only look out for your best interests, my dear!

Best interests my backside! You’re only doing it because you like teasing me. Y—

“—ou’re such a bastard, Hades!” Before she could stop herself the name spilled from her lips as memories and reality melded together for a brief moment within the conversation. For the first time in a while, Nua froze like a deer in headlights and her eyes kept on the Ascian while her heart started to thump loudly against her chest. Meanwhile, the Ascian in question looked into her eyes, brows raised in utter surprise. Once more he was left speechless, but this time it only took him a second to recover, his hand extending to the side of her face, cupping her cheek.

“You remember. You remember, don't you?” He asked softly, his voice on the verge of breaking. His thumb rubbed over her smooth scales slowly, lovingly and she felt her gut clench while butterflies filled her stomach. Hope (Despair?) filled his eyes as he leaned in close, his breath upon her lips. His voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

“I’ve been waiting for you for so long. You’ve finally come back to me, my Persephone.”

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Nothing like a minty gyroid hunt to put you in the mood for baking

We’ve really been on a roll these past few days! It’s a good sign when the camp is bustling with activity and creativity’s running high. Hunting gyroids, crafting furniture, baking up a storm - all in a good day’s hard work.

Before I get into that, I just want to say that Daisy Jane has accepted my offer to move into the cabin. Being out here in the camp has lifted her spirits so high that her head’s up in the clouds, right where she belongs. Since coming out here, Daisy Jane has filled two sketchbooks, designed four sticker sheets, made a bunch of flower hair accessories, and is now designing gyroid themed furniture with Reese and Cyrus. It’s so great seeing her creative spark return after that terrible art block she’d been experiencing since leaving Rosevine.

In other news, Emmaline and Minnie have stopped by at the camp. Now with a date set in stone (a winter wonderland theme), wedding planning is in full swing. Also joining us is Steven from Eats & Treats (it feels so great saying that!), who’s gonna be catering for the wedding. 

I mean I shouldn’t be surprised at this point but I never imagined that Emmaline and Minnie have crossed paths with Steven at some point. In a way, Emmaline and Steven are quite similar in personality - sunny disposition, easily excitable, empathetic, musically inclined, resilient, sassy, dramatic - I can go on and on. They’ve also been through a lot too, more than they like to let on. 

Both also went out on the road to find themselves after spending most of their formative years helping other people. They’re more than willing to sit down with you to talk about your problems, but ask about theirs and suddenly their schedule’s booked. After spending some much needed time out in the world and confronting their issues, they’re at that point where they finally feel like they found their place. For Emmaline, it’s traveling the universe alongside Minnie and for Steven, it’s pursuing the culinary arts.

Maybe that’s why Steven and I clicked instantly when we first met. It’s because he reminds me so much of Emmaline. Having them both in the same room instantly brightens up everything. Like, how can you not be lifted up by two literal cinnamon rolls of sunshine in your presence? 

If I can sum up Emmaline and Steven in a quote, it’d be “Nothing says resilience more than getting back up and choosing to be kind, even after spending a lifetime trying to understand why the universe often chooses to be unforgiving.”

The theme for this gyroid event is a minty cafe/kitchen set. Reese already had the basic designs for the furniture, but it was lacking something that she and Cyrus couldn’t put their finger on. It’s one of those things where you make something that doesn’t sit quite right so you spend a long time trying to fix it, only to end up dissatisfied with the final results every time. Reese was about to throw in the towel and leave the designs as is until Daisy Jane came along. So for the past few days, Reese, Cyrus, and Daisy Jane were hard at work revising the blueprints so they’d be ready for the event.

Despite cutting it super close - 12 hours before the big day - it was definitely worth it! For someone who never designed furniture before, Daisy Jane did a fantastic job! Sometimes all you need is an outsider’s perspective to give you that spark of inspiration you’re missing. I think the minty gyroid cafe furniture might be one of my favorite collections!

Given how Daisy Jane’s creative output has been bursting with a spark of inspiration I’ve never seen before, I’m sure this marks the start of something greater for her! There’s nothing more satisfying than reigniting something that you were once passionate about after a long spell of being unmotivated and uninspired.

Speaking of inspiration, Steven’s been hard at work in the kitchen. Being responsible for making the wedding cake is a daunting task, but knowing Steven, he’ll be able to pull it off. Also Emmaline and Minnie are easily impressed so whatever he comes up with, they’ll love it.

Steven’s been having a blast working at Eats & Treats, where he does unusual cake recipe videos, but he’s reaching the point where he needs to develop a better work-life balance, especially now that he’s starting to move into doing the longer and more in depth cooking videos Eats & Treats is known for. As expected, he’s excited and intimidated - two emotions that often go hand in hand with each other and can either be a blessing or a curse.

Planning a wedding can be stressful. Emmaline knows that firsthand as she put together Soph and Elle’s wedding in a couple days. That’s why Soph insisted on returning the favor and planning Emmaline and Minnie’s wedding when that day comes. So with Soph and Elle handling stuff like the venue, making reservations, and other details that may be overlooked when planning a big event, Minnie and Emmaline are in good hands.

In the meantime, Emmaline and Minnie are enjoying their time out on the road. Although they’ve seen so much of the world, there’s still a lot they have yet to explore. Hearing stories about their adventures, watching them reenact their most epic moments - I never realized how much I missed their contagious enthusiasm. 

I’m in no way exaggerating when I say that Emmaline is starry-eyed because she literally has stars in her eyes when she’s excited and it’s beautiful.

Before going off on our gyroid adventure, Minnie gave a bunch of us haircuts. That’s her thing lately, giving people a new ‘do to spruce things up. My grown out bangs have been a bit out of control so I’m thankful for Minnie stepping in and working her magic. Minnie has always cut and styled her own hair - a talent that I’m low-key jealous of - and she’s one of those people who can pull off any style. Having pretty much tried every single style one can think of, Minnie’s pretty much a pro.

Speaking of hair, Emmaline has fallen into the bangs dilemma, something I’m too far familiar with. After getting herself a nice fringe last year she’s been going though the stages of dealing with the hassle of having bangs. First you enjoy them and trim them regularly, then get tired of trimming them so you let them grow out, only to have them get in the way all the time, then you get annoyed and impatient so you pull out the scissors. Then the cycle repeats over and over again. 

Tired of having her view obscured by hair, Emmaline chopped her bangs, giving them a feathery, jagged look that actually doesn’t look too bad. In fact, I think it suits her better than the blunt bangs look, especially since she has wavy hair that curls up at the ends. She found her handiwork a bit too short for her liking but I think it looks good. 

After our impromptu salon morning, it’s time to head out on a gyroid adventure! Steven, Emmaline, and Minnie make a pretty great team. Emmaline lays low, plucking gyroids from the ground like how one forages in the forest. Minnie hangs high, climbing trees and swinging branches - sometimes getting lucky and pulling down a bag of bells as well. Steven’s the middle ground, even with a quick glance, he can scope out the site and find gyroids in places others tend to miss.

There’s only so many hours in the day so we spaced out our gyroid outings with baking sessions in between. Since some of the recipes we made need prep time, it works out perfectly!

I never really noticed until now, but Minnie always stands on Emmaline’s left. There’s actually a reason for that - it’s because Emmaline can’t see too well on that side. If you look closely, her left eye’s actually a dark muddy green, not golden brown like her right. Her iris also looks kinda like it’s cracked in half, which was probably what happened when she got hurt. If her powers hadn’t intervened, that eye would’ve been gone. 

For the most part, Emmaline’s vision is fine. The main thing is that her visual field on her left is reduced and her depth perception is slightly off so she wears glasses to help make things like driving and reading easier. Minnie helped her a lot during her recovery process, acting as Emmaline’s guide by helping her adjust and get around. Because of that, Minnie stands to Emmaline’s left by default and their hands automatically reach towards each other. It’s one of those super sweet and subtle things that shows their love.

While baking up a storm in our lovely outdoor kitchen, we also crafted furniture. In a couple days we’ll be surrounded by minty kitchenware so that’s something to look forward to. I can’t wait to see the whole setup once everything’s built!

The first thing we baked were biscuits since it was close to lunchtime. Lately I’ve been into making buttermilk biscuits, having made my first attempt a couple weeks ago. While they tasted good, my first batch lacked flaky layers, which was my bad because I overworked the dough. Subsequent attempts after that turned out so much better now that I know to undermix the dough and finish combining everything while rolling it out. Also, baking biscuits on a cast iron pan is a total game changer, especially if you like a crisp edge.

Okay, so making dough isn’t too bad. I actually found working with biscuit dough to be tolerable. Cutting frozen butter into the dry ingredients however is a lot of work. But even that isn’t too bad if you cut the butter into cubes ahead of time so it’s more manageable to work with. It takes a bit of muscle but the effort is definitely worth it!

Later in the day, once we acquired more minty gyroid kitchen items, we made a bunch of other baked good. First were minty chocolate chip brownies, which was based off a recipe Steven did for Eats & Treats except it’s in brownie form, requires less prep time, and does not involve spicy peppers or vacation juice. 

Then we made lemon bars with a recipe that Minnie spent the last few months perfecting after trying them for the first time at a little cafe and it instantly became one of hers and Emmaline’s favorite desserts. If the ones at that cafe were anything like this batch we made, then no wonder Minnie wanted to recreate them!

Up next we made chocolate matcha butter mochi cake, something that Steven and Megan came up with on the spot. Everything we did was purely experimental, but somehow (probably because we have a pro baker with us) it came out pretty good. Aside from needing a few minor tweaks here and there to balance the flavors better, Operation: Improv a Cake was actually successful!

Other baked goods that were made include Daisy Jane’s dainty shortbread tea cookies. It’s been forever since me, Emmaline, and Minnie had one of Daisy Jane’s treats and all at once we were hit with nostalgia. I was kinda bummed that I missed out on her making the cookies but it was nice being surprised by them after a busy outing!

While there are days when the camp is busy baking sweet treats, I think this is the first time the kitchen’s been occupied all day with different campers coming in and out. Two days in and it’s still as busy as ever. Cyrus did a really great job with the oven considering how much we’ve been using it in a short period of time. I’d hate to think what would happen if we got a cheap oven. Good thing that’s not an issue here.

Speaking of problems though, I think maybe we all went a bit too overboard on the baking. After all, one can only survive on baked goods for so long before wondering why you feel groggy and sluggish, then realizing that it’s been a while since you last ate something plant related. 

Looks like we’re gonna be putting together snack boxes, so over baking isn’t entirely a bad thing - especially when you’ve got a bunch of friends (and their friends) to share your treats with!

[stars-and-rose]

Some Birthday Fluff

It’s Thomas’s Birthday! And honestly, I had to write something birthday related to celebrate!

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Pairings: None, it’s all platonic goodness here!

Summary: It’s literally what the title says. Birthday fluff.

Word Count: 1,603

Trigger Warnings: None!

Today was important. If only Thomas could remember why. He laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, attempting to remember why he thought today was so important. Was he supposed to film today? No, that wasn't it. Did he have plans? Not that he could remember. So what was- "Um, excuse me, why are you awake?" A familiarly annoying voice snapped, followed by the obnoxious sound of slurping. Thomas rolled over at glared at the aspect. "Hmmm?" Remy, as the Fanders had dubbed Thomas's Sleep, seemed to roll his eyes behind the dark lens of his sunglasses. "It's seven am, babe. Too early to be up. It's me time, back to bed."

"But-" "If you're not going to appreciate me, I'm going to go out for the whole week." Remy threatened. Thomas sighed, rolling back over and burying his head in his pillow, "Only an hour." "Mmmhmm, so like three." Remy tossed his empty Starbucks drink onto the floor, sitting on the edge of Thomas's bed and pulling out his phone. As soon as he heard Thomas began to snore, he sent a simple text. "he's out. get ur shit done down there, babes.' ------ Downstairs, hell had broken loose. Patton was in the kitchen, electric mixer in one hand and can of sprinkles in the other. His eyes kept glancing to the handwritten recipe book on the counter, and cake batter was spattered all over his clothing. The kitchen smelled like vanilla and sweets, and containers of food dye were thrown half-hazardly across the counter. Sitting on the living room floor was Logan, holding a pair of scissors as he cut through the wrapping paper. Scraps of the colorful paper covered the floor by his feet, and pieces of tape were stuck on his arms. A small pile of presents was stacked next to the logical side. Roman was practicality hanging off a ladder, trying to put up a banner with a suspicious amount of glitter decorating words written in fancy cursive. Virgil was holding the ladder, stabilizing the equipment so the dramatic side on the ladder wouldn't fall, and making sure the banner was straight. (Even though Roman claimed he was incapable of hanging it straight and had to hang it gay.) And Deceit was sitting on the opposite side of the room, admiring the pure chaos in front of him. The phone in his lap went off, and the local snake looked down, reading the message. "Remy says he got Thomas asleep, but he doesn't know for how long." Now, that last part hadn't been included in the message, but Deceit couldn't help but snicker as the announcement caused the other sides to become even more panicked. Deceit continued to observe the chaos, calling out occasional helpful tips such as, "Patton the cake is going to burn," "Logan, you ripped the wrapping paper," or "Roman you're about to fall off the ladder." (The last one was practically the most fun to say, as it caused Roman to actually almost fall and Virgil freak out about how dumb the creative side was.) What? Just because Deceit agreed to help the others with this celebration didn't mean he wasn't going to have fun with it. ------- Thomas woke up again, his mind much clearer. How long had Remy gotten him to sleep for? A look at his clock showed it was almost ten. Thomas sat up abruptly, scaring the annoyance that was his sleep. "Babes- more sleep?" "No, it's time to get up." After a brief argument with Remy, Thomas rolled out of bed and stared at the wall for a solid minute. He was forgetting something, but he still couldn't remember what- A loud crash echoed from downstairs. Thomas jumped, "What was that?" Remy shrugged a little too quickly for it to be nonchalant. "I'm sure it was nothing. Hun-" But Thomas was already out the door. He scrambled down the stairs, expecting a thief or a murderer to be standing in his living room. Instead, he found his sides. Patton had icing in his hair and was sticking candles into a cake. Logan was standing over his shoulder, counting the number of candles Morality put into the desert. Roman and Virgil were sprawled across the living room floor, both looking tired, Roman glaring at a ladder that was on the ground next to him. Anxiety was lecturing Creativity about "How god damn stupid are you to fall off the ladder-."  Deceit was lounging on the couch, and he was the first to meet eyes with their host. "The jig definitely is not up." That caused a round of chaos, Patton almost sticking his hand into the cake and Logan almost stabbing Patton with the candle he was holding. Virgil and Roman got off the floor, both a bit red-faced. The room was quiet for a few seconds before Patton broke it with a soft and bright, "Happy Birthday!" Thomas tilted his head, staring at the room. The cake Patton and Logan had the words "Happy birthday, Thomas!" written in blue icing. A stack of presents was next to the cake, all wrapped expertly. The room was filled with a rainbow of balloons (though there were more red and purple balloons than any other color) and a big banner proclaiming the same words as the cake. Oh. It was his birthday. Thomas looked back up the stairs, where Remy was leaning against the wall. "You were in with this, weren't you?" Remy grinned lazily. "The sides asked for me to keep you distracted. Think of it as my birthday gift to you, a few more hours of sleep. Now, I'm out of Starbucks and that simply doesn't work, babe. Ciao!" With that final remark, the aspect vanished in a cloud of white. Thomas blinked, glaring at the spot where Remy once was. "He better come back tonight." "Don't worry about that, happy birthday kiddo!" Patton gave him a bear hug, nearly knocking him over. Thomas laughed a bit. "You guys planned me a party?" "It was mostly Logan doing the planning," Virgil noted, and Roman nodded picking up the ladder and leaning it against the wall. The logical side seemed a bit smug as he nodded to the other's statement. "You guys didn't have too-" "But we did! Now, no more talking, I made a cake." The fatherly figure of the group dragged Thomas to the kitchen, forcing him to sit. The others crowded around him, and as soon as Logan finished lighting the candles, the lights were switched off. A quick rendition of happy birthday filled the air, with Roman singing like it was the climax of a Broadway show and Logan rapping it. It was a strange thing to listen to, but Thomas was too elated to care. As soon as the song stopped, Thomas took a deep breath and blew out the candles. It took three tries, but he managed to extinguish all the flames. "Did you make a wish?" Roman asked. Thomas winked at the fanciful side. "You know I did." Patton begins to cut the cake (with Virgil reminding him every three seconds to be careful with the knife). The moral side had made a layer cake, each layer forming a rainbow, with rainbow sprinkles mixed into the white icing. "This is horrible, Patton," Deceit said with a mouthful of cake. Morality's face fell. Logan sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Deceit is lying, Patton." "Oh! Thank you then!" Patton ran over and gave the snake-like side a hug. Thomas couldn't help snorting at the confused expression on Deceit's face. Once the cake had been finished, Roman clapped his hands excitedly. "Present time!" Thomas's attention was drawn to the stack of presents on the counter. "You guys got me gifts?" Virgil nodded, and from his position on the counter, right next to presents, handed him the gift on top of the pile. "Logan wrapped these, but I'm pretty sure this one's mine." Thomas carefully unwrapped the paper, revealing a small roll-on bottle. Before Thomas could ask, his anxious side said. "I've been reading up on ways to help with anxiety, and I saw that essential oils can help? I know there's orange and cedarwood in there, but I can't remember the rest-" "Thanks, Virge. I really appreciate it." Thomas beamed at him, and Virgil flashed a peace sign before grabbing the next gift. "I think This one's Logan and Roman's." Thomas blinked. "Logan. Roman- you worked together? Without setting something on fire?" "Hey! We can work together perfectly fine!" Logan nodded along. "We had similar ideas, it made sense to collaborate." After unwrapping the present, Thomas looked down at the small journal in his hands. "It's a book of poetry." Logan supplied. "Logan and I took turns writing poems, and there's 356 in there, one for each day in the year!" Another smile formed on Thomas's lips. "It's fantastic. Thanks, you two." As Virgil handed over the last gift, Patton bounced up and down on his heels. "That one's mine!" The wrapping paper removed, Thomas held up a scrapbook. "Patton, did you make this?" "Yes-sir-re! I found some old photographs lying around in my room and decided to make this!" "That's so sweet, thank you!" Logan looked over at Deceit. "Did you get him a present?" Deceit rolled his eyes, flicking his hands out in jazz hands. "I'm here, and I'm not causing problems. Isn't that a good enough  present?" Thomas gave him a light smile. "It works for me." It really did. The warmth in Thomas's chest made his smile grow, and he knew this was going to be a birthday he remembered.

[hethrewmyheartinthecut]

THE PHOENIX WILL RISE  (2/?)

<< ALFIE x TOMMY. SCI-FI. PAIN. >>

twelve days before.

“Dad, I’m hungry,” Charlie whimpered. A few years ago, Tommy could have just told him that it would be over soon, but at all of eleven years old, Charlie was too smart for that now.

Tommy looked at his watch and found it entirely unforgiving. He longed to get up out of those awful low theater seats, walk out of the building, and take a cab to the White Pony, but he knew it was not to be. He could picture the perfect meal in his mind, could nearly smell it. Simple but good, a fish pie, some beer, and Charlie getting exactly the same...well, not beer. Tommy had started drinking already at that age, but he had a feeling that Grace wouldn’t approve of it, and he found it difficult to argue with his wife now that she was dead.

“Dad.”

“I know. Here, read the program.” Tommy handed over the program in all its pink and black glory. New Birmingham Tenth District Elementary School Aishe Day Performance, it said in overwrought curlicue letters on the front page. Clearly some teacher had repressed years of creative instincts only to unleash them all on a piece of paper whose sole purpose was to list the names of children that everybody already knew were there. “Tell me which families make the biggest showing. Rank them.”

Charlie squinted at it. “Rank them how?”

“Whichever family you think has the most power over the production.”

The dark-haired woman sitting to him shook her head. “Jesus, Tommy.”

Tommy said nothing. It was always only a matter of time before Esme found some fault with his parenting, and he had found that the best way to deal with it was just to ignore her. If he was making a life-threatening mistake she’d escalate to shouting, which is the point at which he’d stop ignoring her. In the meantime he liked to think he got on pretty well.

The game he’d devised had Charlie engaged for a good five minutes. “Is it a trick question?” Charlie finally asked, looking up from the rows of names.

“No.”

“Do you have an answer in your head?”

“Yes,” Tommy lied.

“Hm.” Charlie went back to studying the list of names with such intensity that Tommy regretted making the game up at all. Charlie had what Tommy called his mother’s determination and what Polly called his father’s bloodymindedness. Perhaps Charlie would have a better time if he were more like these other children, easily pleased with a friendly compliment or a rubber ball. But no, his great love was tackling challenges as small as a wooden puzzle and as large as a draft horse, and Tommy found some small measure of comfort in that, in knowing that he wasn’t alone in the restless turnings of his mind. It was selfish, but he liked that he could look at Charlie, with his brown bangs a little too long and his tiny forehead screwed up in thought, and understand the rhythm of how his mind was feeling out the problem.

Some time later—would they never start the fucking show?—Charlie looked up and grinned. “I have it.”

“Go on, then,” said Tommy. He tried not to smile too wide, thought it was a little idiotic to appear that indulgent in public, but fuck he loved the way Charlie’s blue eyes would light up when he smelled victory.

“The Markowitz family has the most children in the show, with thirteen. But only Solly and Miriam can act, so most of them are things like Viridian soldiers, because it doesn’t take any talent to wear green and hold guns and look evil. They don’t have the most power out of the production.”

“All right,” said Tommy, who was already enjoying this immensely.

“We have a decent showing, mostly because Katie got the role of Aishe, but also because Jimmy got to be an evil Viridian politician, and yell about how the Jews and the gypsies are fomenting a culture of crime and blah blah blah in the valley.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. John Junior, affectionately known as Jimmy, had his father’s smile and his mother’s spirits, and was about as far from a politician as anyone could be, even if you excluded his youth.

“He’s really good. You’ll see. But ultimately, I think the Amiel family has the most power over the production, as you said.”

“Family of prodigies, is it?”

“No. But Mr. Amiel is the principal, so he could cancel the whole show before it’s begun. Power.” Charlie grinned up at him, and Tommy grinned back before he could catch himself.

Esme reached over and hit him on the shoulder. Before he could object, she gestured behind them, to the theater’s main entrance.

Tommy turned, and all his satisfaction melted away. He swore. “He doesn’t even have children.”

“Guess we know why the show’s late,” Esme murmured, as they both watched Alfie Solomons saunter down the central aisle. “Couldn’t start without him.”

“I tried to convince the school board to stop taking his donations, last term.”

“And they laughed in your face?”

“Something like that.”

“Should we be worried?”

“No. Half the City Council’s children are in this fucking play. If he does pull anything, it’ll be nothing short of a coup.”

“Are we quite sure he’s not about to try to overthrow the government?”

“We’re sure there’s nothing we can do to stop him now.”

Charlie darted out of his seat, but Tommy’s reflexes had been perfected long ago, and he collared his son almost without looking.

“No,” Tommy said.

“I wouldn’t even talk to him! I’d just pick his pockets.”

“He’s eaten smaller boys than you for breakfast.”

“Really?”

“No, but don’t go stealing from Alfie Solomons without a grand plan.”

“Simplest plans are the best. It’s when you get complicated that you get fucked.”

“Don’t go quoting Aunt Pol to me.” Tommy plopped his son back down in the little theater chair.

Charlie sighed. “Will the play at least start now?”

“I think so.”

And sure enough, immediately after Alfie had politely evicted someone from the front row and settled himself down, the lights dimmed.

Alfie had made all his rivals stew in their boredom for an extra twenty minutes with some of their kids whining beside them and some of their kids probably pissing themselves from stage fright. Tommy had to hand it to him; even for an international arms dealer, was a whole new level of particularly petty assholery.

Once the curtain lifted, though, Tommy’s annoyance melted away. It was genuinely hilarious to see all the three and four year olds lined up, wobbly and blinking in the stage lights, trying to remember the appropriate words and motions to some song and dance about Death Mountain. Not that the song called it that, of course; to be politically correct, the school had dutifully stuck to the rebrand, and the song, thanking Mount Ilia for making the valley a good place to grow various different crops. Notably, it did not mention that the way that Death Mountain had done that was by exploding in a cloud of volcanic ash and destroying everything in the valley below, including all its previous inhabitants. But maybe that wasn’t age-appropriate.

Somewhere in between the verse about grain and the verse about apples, Oliver, Esme and John’s youngest, got tired of the dancing and decided to sit down. Very neatly, cross-legged, he spent the rest of the song singing heartily, but not even trying to make the right motions with his arms. Occasionally he swiped his curly brown hair out of his eyes with one pudgy little hand, but that was it, despite the silent gesticulating of his young teacher, who was clearly trying to motion him to get up. When the song ended, most of the kids filed out, but Oliver stayed sitting, so the poor woman had to get up on stage and pick Oliver up to make way for the next scene. From far down the Shelby row, Arthur laughed so hard over it he sounded nearly hysterical.

Then came the prime attraction, the Aishe Day reenactment. A rather impressive number of students dressed in green, red, and yellow, and representing armies from Viridian, West Celas, and Erles, milled about on the stage shouting and brandishing some of the most unconvincing gun replicas Tommy had ever seen. Among them was Karl, who as one of the oldest Shelbys, had participated in more Aishe Days than he cared to remember and appeared bored out of his mind. Tommy didn’t blame him; at that age, he had spent most historical reenactments in a similarly sullen state.

Finally, the Viridians “won”, represented by all the red and yellow wearing students dropping dramatically down onto the stage, and a handful of the students wearing green ripped off their green shirts to reveal blue or orange below, apparently representing the Jewish and Romani people that had fled afterwards. Tommy was getting bored again. Last year’s play had had much better production values.

But then came Jimmy, all dressed in green. Even frowning, he still reminded Tommy of a much younger John, especially considering the way he gestured with great enthusiasm as he gave his speech. At first, said speech was standard fare about how the Viridians couldn’t trust New Birmingham and all those Jews and gypsies and their illegal buildings and the way that criminals were fleeing from law abiding countries to blah blah blah, but as he really got into it, Jimmy began to get extemporaneous, and pretty soon he was bellowing improvised political invective with a viciousness, filth, and speed which frankly impressed his uncle very much.

He glanced down at Charlie to see how Charlie was taking this. Far from being disturbed by his cousin’s unexpected aptitude for mimicking one of the most renowned racists of recent history, Charlie appeared completely enthralled by the way that Jimmy was getting away with saying things that otherwise Esme would have washed his mouth out for.

Esme noticed it, too. When Jimmy was finally waved off the stage by a red-faced teacher, she leaned over.

“Hey.” She tapped Charlie on the shoulder. “If you weren’t homeschooled, you could be up there right now. Tell your dad to enroll you next year.”

Tommy didn’t even look away from the stage. “Fuck off, Esme.”

“Bite me, Tommy.”

“Fuck off, Aunt Esme.”

“Oi!” said Tommy.

“Sorry,” Charlie muttered.

Esme raised one eyebrow, but nobody could withstand a solid fifteen seconds of Charlie giving them the puppy eyes. She relented, mussing his hair. “You really are your father’s son.”

“You lot, shut up,” Polly whisper-hissed. “Katie’s on soon.”

That Katie was, and for all the chaos and embarrassment that previous Shelbys had caused the most important school performance of the year, John’s daughter more than made up for it. From the moment she stepped on the stage, all eyes were on her. Despite the truly awful props and set, her determined gray eyes miraculously lifted Aishe’s story out of the ridiculous and into the captivating. Read on a page, her little opening monologue about how worried she was about her family back home in New Birmingham would have come across as trite, but the way she delivered it, it reminded Tommy of his first few nights away from home, trying to fall asleep in the barracks and missing Arthur’s familiar snore.

The beats of the story were familiar to everyone: how Aishe had stolen some of the most important weapons research from under the nose of her employer; how she had brought them to New Birmingham; how, at the age of only twenty-three, she had flown to the top of Mount Ilia, deposited the pulse technology that blanketed the valley in a protective signal-blocking shield, keeping New Birmingham safe from the Viridian threat. With her plane thus disabled, she tried to descend the mountain on foot, and died in the attempt. When the boy who played the radio operator tried to contact her and received no response, Tommy could actually feel his throat tighten up. Fucking hell, an emotion. Who knew that thirteen-year-old Katie could do something to him that getting shot in the arm couldn’t even manage anymore?

When the curtain went down, most of the audience was still stunned, but Arthur, never one for hesitation, immediately began clapping.

“On your feet!” he roared, and there came the standing ovation.

As the applause eventually died down, Tommy felt Charlie tugging at his sleeve. He bent down, a little worried that his son would actually demand to attend school after all. But no.

“Can we eat now, Dad?”

“Yes,” said Tommy, a split second before Principal Amiel took the stage.

Amiel was a rather slight, balding man with the thinnest of wire reading glasses, hardly imposing, but his voice, when he spoke, held a surprising amount of authority, low and grave and measured. “Thank you, everyone, for coming today to share in the celebration of our city and its history.”

A few parents began to sneak out the back door, evidently wishing to skip the patriotic speech and get their children.

In response, Amiel raised his voice, just a little. “I would especially like to thank our guest, Mr. Solomons, for supporting our school in so many ways.”

Jesus Christ. Tommy could hear Esme make a noise of disgust, and for once, the two of them were in agreement. Amiel had always been a brown noser, but this time he was so far up Alfie’s ass that he must have been bumping into Alfie’s fucking liver with his forehead.

“This year, he has blessed our school not only with his general support, but also with scholarships for a number of students, some based on need and some on particular gifts. Tonight, we would like to highlight one of these students by inviting the winner of the Alfie Solomons Patriotism In Writing Essay Contest to read their piece. Miriam, will you please come to the stage.”

A girl of about fifteen, with two long braids, walked slowly down the center aisle, blushing furiously. There were multiple papers clutched in her hand. Multiple sheets of paper.

Tommy was going to kill him. That was simply what he was going to have to do.

“Dad,” said Charlie. “Food.”

“I know,” Tommy said grimly. “I know.”

When the girl began to read what was essentially a policy paper, Tommy’s eyes just about rolled into the back of his head. There was no originality to it; it was just the common argument for sending the army to remove the pulse technology from the top of Death Mountain. Blah blah blah, wireless technology was the future, blah blah blah, falling behind other countries, blah blah blah, an economic necessity, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Couldn’t Alfie have picked something entertaining, at least? Though, from the Cheshire grin he wore, he clearly was entertained well enough.

The speech dragged on, and Tommy imagined Arthur in his less-than-sober days, who would probably have leapt up and started shouting only two sentences into this speech. If we get rid of the pulse, every other country can fly over us and bomb us into fucking rubble, he’d say. Probably wave his arms a little too. Maybe point. Arthur did love pointing at people for emphasis. But of course you don’t care about that, do you, Mr. Solomons? You don’t give a shit about soldiers like me, hell, you’d love a fucking war, arms dealer like you. Make a fortune out of it! You fucker. Spittle flying, more likely than not.

Tommy amused himself with wondering who would win in a fight. Alfie had a weight advantage, but he had the bum leg. Same height, and they were both, to put it delicately, mental. He decided that if he were laying odds, he’d make them damn near 50/50, probably favoring Alfie. Alfie had the edge of quicker thinking, not to mention a clearly sadistic streak, if this endless speech was anything to go by.

Far down the row, there was a stirring, and he looked over. A boy with the recognizable gray cap of a mail runner had passed Polly a letter. WAs this some new policy he’d not been informed of? He’d heard of immediate deliveries to people’s houses at nighttime, but this was something else. Polly’s face as she read the letter made his stomach drop. There was a moment of pure dismay, and then the mask slid into place. They were in public, and he could not reach over, grab her, and ask, but in his head he went through all the people that could be dead. It wasn’t a child, wouldn’t be, not with that reaction. Uncle Charlie, maybe? Johnny Dogs?

Polly handed the letter down to Esme, then got up and started to leave the theater, just as Principal Amiel suddenly interrupted the girl on stage.

“I apologize,” he said, “but there is something important I feel we must speak about. Please have a seat, Miriam.” There was a faint tremor in his voice, though he spoke far more quickly than he usually did. The girl gladly fled the stage. Amiel gripped the microphone tighter.

“On this day, of all days,” he said, “We must think on the nature of our city.”

Esme was reading the letter now and she was worse than Polly at keeping a stone face; the fear was there. Up in the front row, Alfie was reading a letter too. Tommy hadn’t seen who passed it to him, but fuck. Fuck.

“Less than seventy years old,” Amiel went on, “In the shadow of Mount Ilia, poorer than the surrounding countries, created by all the people not wanted elsewhere. And yet we are not fragile. New Birmingham will remain for generations to come for the same reason that it has survived thus far: because we are a people familiar with sacrifice.”

Tommy could taste the bitterness of adrenaline, and he hadn’t even seen a fucking gun yet.

“Because, when the moment comes, we can work as one to save ourselves. Because Aishe alone could not have done it without the thousands of troops, some veterans and some conscripts, who fought on the ground even as the pulse shielded the sky. Because we fight together.”

Esme had tangled one hand in John’s hair, John had no idea what was happening, but they were kissing passionately and Tommy couldn’t stand it anymore. He snatched the letter out of her hand.

“If we can keep our heads,” Amiel said urgently, “if we can think in a crisis, if we—”

The sirens went off. The theater erupted.

“KEEP YOUR FUCKING HEADS.” That was Alfie, roaring into the microphone. He had bounded up onto the stage and snatched it from Amiel’s hands. “Stay fucking seated. You’re not children. We’ve been drilled on this. Half of you are in the fucking army, so try and fucking act like it.”

The crowd settled somewhat, such was the power of the man’s voice.

“Troop transport should be here shortly, and we’ll all get our marching orders then. For now, stay in your fucking seats. The last thing we need is some kid trampled.”

Kids, Jesus. Tommy crouched down and put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Charlie met him with an intolerably familiar look. He had his mother’s green eyes, and they were now looking at Tommy with pride trying to cover up the fear. “Are we gonna die, Dad?” he said. “I can take it if we are. I just want to know.”

“No. No, you’re going to be fine.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” And God he was his mother’s son, he truly was, all the more because looking at him, Tommy couldn’t bear to lie, not like this.

“I love you, all right?” His son’s eyes had begun to fill with tears. “Look at me. Charlie, I—”

“Orders from the Commander: all soldiers in transport, special troops included, guard reserves included.” Tommy looked up. Alfie had another letter in his hand, was reading it out. “Transport is out front, doesn’t matter which company you’re in, we’ll all get sorted at the base.” There was a sudden surge of movement in the school theater seats. “Oi!” Alfie bellowed. “I want to see some orderly fucking exits.”

All around them was a press of bodies, motion, a thousand voices. Tommy had to raise his voice to be heard.

“I have to go. Be good for Linda and Arthur, all right?”

Charlie grabbed his sleeve. “Dad, wait.”

“I have to go. Come on, here.” There was nothing else he could do; he lifted Charlie wholesale and handed him over to Arthur.

“I’ve got him, don’t worry,” Arthur said gruffly. “Kill a couple of em for me, will you?”

Tommy tore himself away, tried and failed to ignore Charlie yelling “Dad!” after him.

He pushed his way into the aisle, which had swelled with dozens, maybe hundreds of other people, other soldiers, and fuck it was strange to think of them that way when some of them were still in stiff ties or high heels but they were and this was it. Polly he couldn’t see in the crowd, but John and Esme were just ahead of him, holding hands, John not paying any attention to where he was going, but letting her steer him as he leaned over and half-shouted into her ear. The expression on John’s face cut through the panic enough to make Tommy’s chest ache. Esme was in their one and only armored tank division, would be first on the front line. John was in the infantry.

Outside the school was pure chaos. A few dark cars with their own sirens blaring sped away, likely taking city councilmen, dignitaries, advisors, maybe even Polly to meet with the mayor, but on the whole it was massive, monstrous dark troop transport units, and people piling into them like sardines into a can. In the shuffle, John lost sight of Tommy and Esme. Not that it would matter, he tried to tell himself. If it was to be a fucking war, they’d all get split. None of them were in the same division, and yet—

The flow of people took him into one of the transport units, and he fumbled with the letter in his hand. It was hard to read in the press of people all around him, but the message on it was simple.

CLASSIFIED

To: City Council, Commander’s Advisors, Division Leaders

From: City Commander, Mayor

Mount Ilia, Code Orange. Eruption expected in fifteen (15) days. Capitol ASAP.

“Oi!” a familiar voice said.

Tommy looked up into the bearded face of Alfie Solomons.

“Where’d you get that?” He was peering down at the paper, and before Tommy could react, had snatched it away and was tearing it to pieces.

Tommy let it go. Better that then have another soldier read it and panic.

“Fucking hell, you Shelbys you do share and share alike, don’t you. Classified materials and all.”

The door closed behind them, and in the ensuing darkness, Tommy could feel the unit begin to move, the press of bodies round him the only thing keeping him up.

“You’re reserves, is it, Alfie?”

“Fuck no. Army. Where’d you think I got the fucking limp from?”

In the hubbub of voices, Tommy felt sure he could still hear Charlie calling after him. He closed his eyes, tried to focus. “Army? Impossible.”

“Better believe it, mate.”

“If you were in the Army, you’d never let the lot of us hear the end of your great fucking sacrifices.”

This would set off Arthur’s PTSD, Tommy was fucking sure of it. Linda would have that handled, maybe, but then there was Charlie for her to take care of and all of John and Esme’s kids, not to mention Linda and Arthur’s own and none of their houses had enough beds for that and—

Alfie’s voice was right in his ear, murmuring something. Something about war, and often, and don’t.

Tommy shivered. Even if Linda did manage to sort all those things out, the best would be to get the children out and soon. Did Polly still have contacts with Erlesian smugglers? She had to, the last deal had been less than two years ago. But then Polly was likely in the Capitol now and lost to everything but strategy. There was no way Linda had the connections to smuggle that many children across the border. And Ada, where was Ada when the sirens went off? Was Karl’s school doing an Aishe Day celebration then, or had they maybe done it in the morning, and if they had, where was Freddie—

“Oi.” That was Alfie, much louder now. The unit hit a bump in the road, jolted, and his beard scraped at Tommy’s cheek.

Tommy flinched away. “What?”

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you. What are you?”

“I’m fine,” Tommy said through his teeth.

“No, what’s your rank?”

“Sergeant Major.”

“Then I outrank you.”

“Congratulations,” Tommy snarled.

“Pull it together, Shelby. That’s an order from a superior officer. Look at me.” Tommy did, but in the darkness, there wasn’t much to see. Suddenly, one big hand grabbed him by the collar, pulled him in. “We’re going to need every last soldier. Last I checked, you were a soldier. Yeah? So pull it the fuck together.” Alfie released him with a pat to the shoulder, or maybe it was a slap.

“Yeah,” Tommy got out. He hated that it was coming from Alfie, but the man was right, of course he was. He’d done this before. Breathing, that was the key. Breathing, and thinking through the parts of a handgun. Simple, methodical. How he would clean it. How he would take it apart, and put it back together. Metal only, no people. Metal only…

Eventually, his stomach settled. He felt he had to prove that it had. “Alfie, about that scholarship speech.”

“You liked that? I wrote it myself.”

“I hope, from the bottom of my fucking heart, that you die slow.”

Alfie laughed. He seemed to shrink from Alfie Solomons down to a man when he laughed. It was the way he laughed, too loud and too big and too long. Too too much. Maybe Tommy wasn’t the only one in the conversation who had to count out his breathing.

“You too, Shelby,” Alfie said. “You too.”

.

.

.

the other chapters: on tumblr • on ao3

lmk if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it:

@twistedrunes, @transtommyshelby, @pure-bastard-extract, @whentommymetalfie, @darkandstormyslash, @toyhto, @birminghamblinders, @clearblue99, @mafaldaz

[k9cat]

To Hold a Name 4/4

Virgil

WC: 1002

Summary: Being pieces of a whole was always interesting, you were all the same, but also completely different. And the differences were not always visible like if you needed glasses or always wore the same colour. Each Side finds something completely unique that belongs to only them, their name.   A little origin story mixed with a dash of character analysis and some head canon world build. Light, cute, and usually fluffy.

Patton | Roman | Logan | Virgil    Ao3: Here  Stedlers Masterpost

THAN Taglist: @fandersfic-virgil @im-so-infinitesimal  @bunny222 @violetmcl (Let me know if you want to be added!)

~*~

It was a night of tossing and turning. Anxiety knew it as soon as he stepped back into his bedroom. Sleep was not a close friend right now, he could tell by the ache that pressed in the back of his head, and he really wanted it today too.

He didn’t know how Morality did it. There was a knock at his door, the sweet- the too sweet smile of the bubbly trait was shown and everyone knew you didn’t say no to him, and he found himself in the commons with the others.

Creativity was planning something and Logic already looked exasperated with whatever was going on. That was already enough warning for him and he tried to nope out, and Creativity got huffy and Morality felt sad and Logic looked even more exasperated and… and they hadn’t even begun what ever was planned when Creativity stormed out and everything kind of fell away.

So now he was laying. Laying in his almost too big bed thinking about all the things that went wrong today because of him, half swallowed by the blankets surrounding and swaddling him. He was too tired too actually be tired anymore. He had tried counting down, he found and played soft music, he did relaxing stretches. He even messed around with his blankets and pillows. Earlier in the evening Logic had found him in the living room and shared the tea he had made, mentioning something about quiet company and then proceeded to ramble about the tea, he was too distracted with his own thinking to full pay attention. Nothing seemed to work.

He let his mind wander and float in the half-asleep state that eventually toppled him on the wakeful side of consciousness. The absolute darkness of his room was tempered by the amber nightlight and the all-consuming silence that hung above him was dampened by the soft drizzle of rain outside his window. The tapping and pattering of drops on the panes of glass created a soothing drone that has always helped him calm down. He let the sound fill the room quietly. Surrounding him and the chaotic thoughts that pestered in an insulating blanket that soothed them, and he breathed. Four, seven, eight, and things were okay.

Cocooned by the steady grounding sound he kept his mind open to all the bubbly thoughts that floated up out of nowhere. Sometimes they were nice thoughts, sometimes they were not so nice. He drifted and soon found himself floating in the in-between of here and aware and present, and the deeper unknown of the subconscious that always had that persistent tug. Always feeling like it wanted to drag them back down into the whole that He was. Yet he continued to float on top, meeting the colourful bubbles that rose up from the subconscious.

He always popped as many bubbles as possible before they got to Thomas and he was surprised by the ideas inside of them. Sometimes they were nice ideas and he rebubbled them and pushed them up to the front. Letting the ideas become dreams or thoughts to ponder. But most times they were not nice, intrusive and hurtful things and he crushed the content so that they could never be used and he threw them away.

Those types of thoughts would never get to Thomas if he could help it, but sometimes there were so many and inevitably one or two always slipped through and there was nothing he could do about it.

Tonight in his floating and popping of bubbles, he noticed a rather large bubble rising right up to him, or maybe he was in its path. It was hard to tell. It was a shining gold colour shimmering in the ambient amber light. It looked so pretty, and he felt that it was special compared to all the other bubbles in the normal rainbow of tones. He really wanted to pop this bubble and see what was inside of it.

As he looked at it as it floated closer, he realized why it was so special. The bubble was only for him, it was his. All the others had something special too them, this was his something special. With how everything was so tangled together in the mindscape he couldn’t go in one direction or the other without running into something that the others had made of conjured up. But this was his thing, so shiny and honestly beautiful in the dreary land that surrounded him. he really wanted to know what was inside.

He reached out when it came close enough, meeting the bubble as it floated closer. His fingers just brushed the surface when the bubble burst. The idea bloomed to life inside his mind. Gold, glittery, shimmery special gold. Strong, protection, insurance of safety. Something that would always be with him. Anxiety opened his eyes watching how the gold sparkle from the burst bubble drifted down over him. shining gold coating him and sticking. A new weight settled on his shoulders as he watched strong valiant armor cover his chest and back over his sweater. I was beautiful.

The weight felt nice, like a tether grounding him, halting him from floating away any further. He looked over the breastplate, pretty scrollwork edged and decorated the border. The swirls were mesmerising, etched and carved like curls of storm clouds. In his looking he noticed something distinct, just by the collar was probably the nicest cursive he’d ever seen declaring a name.

Virgil.

A name. His name, that was his name.

He smiled a smile he hadn’t had much reason to share, bright and nice feeling. A tightness he didn’t realize he was carrying lessened over his chest. The comfortable weight of the breastplate had a certain soothing pressure and he settled away from the bubbles and floating for the night.

Virgil turned over under his warm quilt and sheets pulling them closer. finally settling into the sleep he was looking for.

 ~*~

Virgil solo tag list , fander tag list 

 @randomslasher  @thats-so-crash @allaboutme70-blog @ffsas-side-account @lo-brokeit @yonnie-boy @unknownsandersfan @sanders-sides-shambles @pandagirl0730 @bluebellie01 @bubblegum-borb @the-feels-are-coming @starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer @hanramz-the-fander @ahoardofsides @callboxkat @faacethefacts @anachronistic-cat @reba-andthesides @AskolotlQuestions @crankywhenprovoked @yourhappypappypatton @katatles-the-fish @dib-leo-pard @sassy-in-glasses @elvishfrenchassassin @ocotopushugs @goodonebadgirl @kirsten-the-freak @haikyuupaladin @weird-short-person @thisisshien @angeliclogan @poundland-twoface @nightlovechild @hoodie-bros @siriuswhiskers @anastasialestina @i-will-physically-fight-you @ace-v-p-d @radioactivebread @theshipqueenarrives @dudlebuggs @cinquefoilelove @rptheturk @iris-sanders-athena @ono-its-ryane @evilmuffin @theresneverenoughfandoms @trashypansexual @sugarblob0 @roman-is-a-dramatic-prince @vulnerablevirgil @confinesofpersonalknowledge @candiukas @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @muontsy2 @katesattic @spacenerrrd @toujours-fidele @planetsanders @anonymouseandkeyboard @erlenmeyertrashofsandersides @logan-exe @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @justmyshitandmoreshit @blaikleethepanagender @anxious-darkwolf @loving-neko

[princeofdespair]

Worth It (Chapter 1)

Pairings: Royality

Summary: Roman's plan is simple but seeing as how he was Thomas' romantic side he had no doubt (okay, maybe just a little doubt...) that it would be a success. Ask Patton out, enjoy a romantic evening together, sweep him off his feet and confess his ever burning love for him. Patton will be enamored, of course, and the two will immediately enter into a passionate relationship and live happily ever after. Easy...right?

Warnings: Minor cursing. Let me know if I need to tag anything else!

Word Count: 3537

A/N: Yeah, big surprise but this fic got away from me too, whoops. It ended up being over 9000 words which is just way too much for one sitting, so I split it into two parts! Part two will be out on either Monday or Tuesday cause I don't want it colliding with the new Sanders Sides.

I'm kinda nervous about posting this one because I took it to some weird places, I really hope you enjoy it though!

[Chapter Two]

[Read on AO3!]

Roman wasn't quite sure when the exact moment was that he had fallen in love with Patton.

He was ashamed to admit that, in the beginning, he had found the moral side to be frankly, quite annoying. His constant bubbly, cheerful attitude, his childlike outlook on life, his short, scatterbrained attention span, his determination to find the good in everyone Thomas met...it used to drive him crazy. Patton tried so hard to be there for all of them and Roman payed him no mind for the longest time but little by little, he found himself enjoying his company. And then he found himself craving it.

Patton was always in the habit of asking them to come hang out with him or just wanting them to see something he was proud of. Logan would usually roll his eyes but he'd join him anyway. Virgil, for the longest time, was rarely seen out of his room at all, and Roman? Roman used to send him away without a second thought and he regrets that now, every single day. He swallows his pride and apologizes to him, years too late. Too much damage done, but Patton just smiles and says he forgives him. No groveling required. He doesn't think he deserves forgiveness, let alone Patton's company, but he gives both to him anyway.

He couldn't tell you exactly when it started. There were no fireworks. No cupids arrow hitting him out of nowhere. Nothing like in any of the fairy tales he's so fond of. Roman just simply looked at him one day, while spending a lazy afternoon together in his realm, and he just...knew. Patton was talking about something, he couldn't remember what, but whatever it was made him happy. Patton was talking a mile a minute while laying in the grass and watching the clouds roll by, occasionally one would be interesting enough that he would stop mid sentence and point it out to him. Roman would just smile and wait for him to ask what he was saying before, and of course Prince always knew, down to the last detail. Patton would thank him and continue on happily babbling away and Roman knew then that he loved him more than anything.

Months go by, then years, and Roman keeps his feelings to himself.

He tells himself that he is simply waiting for the perfect time. It had nothing to do with his crippling fear of rejection or that lately all it took was that sunshine filled smile thrown his way to turn him into a flustered mess and the words just wouldn't come out. No, of course not. Roman simply wanted this to be perfect, Patton deserved nothing less.

He decides one day, that enough is enough. They didn't have forever after all, so he starts brainstorming. If he's going to do this he's going to do this the right way, so as extra as he can possibly get away with.

His plan is simple but seeing as how he was Thomas' romantic side he had no doubt (okay, maybe just a little doubt...) that it would be a success. Ask Patton out, enjoy a romantic evening together, sweep him off his feet and confess his ever burning love for him. Patton will be enamored, of course, and the two will immediately enter into a passionate relationship and live happily ever after. Easy. He was Prince Roman after all, the physical embodiment of creativity, and love and-

It takes him three weeks after coming up with this brilliant plan, to actually work up the courage to set it into motion. He wakes up bright and early one morning and before he can talk himself out of it, jumps out of bed, hurries to get dressed and then dashes out of his room. He takes care not to make too much noise as he walked passed Patton and Virgil's doors and marches straight into the room of the other early bird, Logan.

“I need a memory!” Roman announces, posing flamboyantly in his doorway.

Logan doesn't look up from his laptop. He types away and says completely deadpan, “And I need obnoxious Princes to stop barging into my room without knocking first but we can't all get what we want.”

Roman deflates a little and frowns. “Would you like me to leave and reenter properly, Logic?”

“I would appreciate it.”

“Are you going to lock me out as soon as I shut the door?”

“Most likely.”

Roman let's his arms fall with a huff and marches over to Logan's desk. It's ridiculously large considering all that he has on it is his laptop, a couple neat stacks of books and a few nerdy toys that Virgil got for him. There's plenty of space so all Roman has to do is push some papers off to the side so he can pull himself up on it. Logan doesn't say a word but he clenches his jaw as Roman crosses a leg over his thigh and folds his arms. Considering he's asking for a favor Roman knows it would be in his best interest to be a little nicer but he couldn't help but push Logan's buttons just a little. It was so damn easy after all.

“I'll admit, that was a rather rude entrance, but-”

“You say that every time, and yet.” Logan gestures towards him with one hand, the other not ceasing his work.

Roman clicks his tongue but then continues on, “-this is important. Please?”

Logan spares him a glance as he types and says, “It must be if you're being this polite.”

“I'll owe you, alright?”

That finally gets Logan's full attention. He stops typing and cracks his knuckles, then leans back in his chair and presses his fingertips together, looking up at Roman. “Fine, I'll consider it. What's the memory?”

Roman feels his nerve wavering just a bit. He didn't want the others to find out what he was up to but...this was Logic after all. He tended to not catch on to the more emotionally fueled happenings in the mindspace. He nods and begins to describe it as much as he can. It was over a year ago so the details weren’t all intact but he did his best. A trip to New York, meeting up with old friends, spending the afternoon in Central Park. He clearly remembers it was the first few days of fall and the brisk, chilly air melded with the warm afternoon sun beautifully. He tries to put into words the overwhelming happiness that Thomas was feeling that day.

Logan listens to him intently. When Prince is finished, he sits up and gives him a nod.

“I'll find it.”

“Oh. Just like that?” Roman asks. It wasn't like Logan to just give these out freely. He always wanted to know exactly why they were being requested. Prince had come up with a simple lie and was fully prepared to give it to him.

Logan doesn’t respond. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and suddenly the room is enveloped in a bright, white light. Roman jumps as Logan's eyes turn a dark, glowing blue. What seemed like thousands of pictures started rapidly flashing across every wall of his room and Logan's eyes started moving just as fast, as if he was chasing each and every one. Roman had seen this a couple of times before but it still freaked him out a little. It was nothing like when he created a fantasy.

Logan remained frozen in his chair, sitting up rigidly. Again unlike Roman, he doesn't seem to need his full concentration to do this so Roman goes ahead and says, “You want to get rid of me so bad that you're not going to bother asking what this is for?”

Without stopping Logan replies, “I assumed this was for Patton.”

Roman has to grip at the desk to keep from falling off of it.

“How the hell did you know?!”

Logan snorts, “It's my job to know things, Roman.”

Prince glares at him though he knows full well that Logan can't see him. Before he can reply Logan goes on to say, “Honestly, Virgil brought it to my attention. You're apparent romantic feelings towards Patton, that is. In fact he won't stop bringing it up as of late. He thought you were, in his exact words, 'thirsty as fuck'.”

Roman's mouth drops open. That little shit. How dare he! Did he really think that all he wanted was...that? He shakes his head, the day had just begun and already he felt like calling it all off. Was he really that obvious? How could Virgil of all people pick up on his feelings but Patton didn't seem to...

Running a hand through his hair he quietly says, “You don't...it's not like that. I really-”

Logan raises his hand though he doesn't quite aim it in Roman's direction. “I know. Virgil was just being dramatic. He actually thinks you're in love with him and from my recent observations, and the reaction you just gave, I would say he was right.”

Roman doesn't answer him, just lets out a heavy sigh. Logan either ignores it or doesn't notice at all and he continues on saying, “I don't understand why he's so worked up about this. It's honestly getting tiring hearing him complain about it non stop. He sees Patton as a father figure and I strongly doubt he has feelings for you himself so I don't think it's...ah. Found it.”

The pictures all freeze in place so suddenly it make Roman's stomach lurch. Logan's illuminated eyes are trained on a spot on the ceiling, there are so many pictures overlapping and blending together that Roman couldn’t possibly guess which one he was looking at. He waits silently now as Logan reaches a hand out towards the ceiling and suddenly all of the pictures but one scatter into the whiteness. The remaining image glows the same dark blue as his eyes and starts to warp into a ball, then it begins to shrink until it's no bigger than a dime. Logan finally stands up and holds out his hand and the memory floats down into it. As soon as it touches his skin there's another flash and the room is back to normal and the light in Logan's eyes is gone. All that remains is what looks like a faintly glowing marble in Logan's hand.

“You have twenty-four hours before it fades back into my realm.”

“Yes, yes, I know how this works.”

Logan walks over to him until he's up close. Roman closes his eyes as Logan presses the light against his forehead. Suddenly, the fuzzy memory he tried to describe earlier was as clear as the day it was made. He can taste the hot chocolate Thomas ordered, hear the newly fallen leaves crunch underneath his boots, feel one of  Thomas' friends cling happily to his arm and laugh as if they were standing right next to him. It's almost overwhelming but it quickly passes into the back of his mind, waiting to be used.

Roman pushes himself off the desk and thanks Logan who just hums in reply. He sits back down and begins typing away at his laptop, instantly picking up where he had left off. As Roman is walking out he hears, “Good luck, Roman,” and he leaves with a little more confidence than what he woke up with.

Twenty-four hours meant that Prince didn't have long to pull this off successfully. He could always ask Logan for more time but not only was that not fair to the logical side but Roman really didn't think he would have it in him to try again, at least not for a while. He didn't want to waste anymore time that could potentially be spent with his beloved. Prince waited until after Patton had made everyone breakfast (doing his damnedest to not make eye contact with him because he was sure he would give himself away) before initiating his next step. Getting the location of the date was easy, actually securing it was another story.

He gives it an hour, more than enough time for Patton to have finished cleaning up after breakfast. When he's sure Patton is free, he stands at his door, takes a few deep breath to steady himself and walks out into the hallway. He turns into the commons and-

Shit.

Patton is there all right, but so his little emo terror son. They're sitting close to each other on the couch, Virgil with his 3DS in his hands, his face scrunched up in concentration, and Patton cuddled next to his side watching the screen intently. He sees Virgil's eyes flash his way but they're back on the screen before Patton can notice.

Roman briefly considers turning around before Patton sees him but he steels himself and stands tall. He doesn't know what Virgil's problem is but he sure as hell won't let him ruin this. He can handle his sass any other day, this shouldn't be any different.

He strides into the room and stands behind the couch they're on. Virgil furiously mashes a button and Patton is still too distracted to notice. The tiny gasp he makes when Virgil almost dies (he can see now that they're playing Ocarina of Time) is almost enough to send Roman into a blushing mess. Almost. He keeps it together and clears his throat to catch their attention. He feels bad as Patton jumps in surprise but it's was also very, very cute. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot and turns up his charm.

He leans over the side of the couch, just inches away from him and says,“Forgive my interruption but may I steal you away for a moment, Patton?”

Before Patton can respond, Virgil (that absolute menace), not looking up from his game says, “We're bonding, Princey. He's my dad right now, bug him later.”

Roman could have honestly hit him, if he were a lesser man. Patton turns back to Virgil, proud tears forming in his eyes and beams. Roman can't help but feel of pang of jealously that Patton would rather spend time with short, dark and edgy than a dashingly handsome prince, but he did understand how much this meant to him. Patton loved Virgil so much and he had confided in Roman many times about how Virgil reaching out on his own meant so much to him. Anyone who could make Patton that happy meant something to Roman too but right now Virgil was being a pain in the ass and he really didn't need this today of all days.

Patton wipes at his eyes and, says, “Can it wait a few more minutes, Ro? I promise I'll come talk to you soon! I won't forget!” Roman feels his face heat up at just how sweet and sincere that was. Virgil watches them both and for a brief moment he looks almost conflicted. He's quick to hide it before Patton can catch it by letting out a loud groan and then pauses his game.

“Don't worry about it, Pat. Just go before he throws a fit,” he pouts. Patton smiles and ruffles his hair and says, “Be nice! But, if you're sure...”

He nods and says, “Yeah, it's cool dad.” Patton gives him a smile and pats him on the shoulder before standing up. It suddenly hits Roman that this is it, he's about ask Patton out. What if he says no? Or gets upset or...Virgil catches Roman's eye and he swears that some weird understanding passes between them. Perhaps Virgil knew what he was up to and this was his way of giving him permission to go on. Not that he needed it from him but the thought was somehow comforting regardless.

Roman requested that they talk in Patton's room, he felt it made things easier if Patton rejected him. He could just turn around and leave, hopefully making things a little less awkward for him. He really didn't need to be dwelling on that right now so he focused on the shorter side in front of him, rocking back and forth on his heels patiently.

Patton could never sit still for too long and over the years Roman had picked up that he had different types of fidgets for different moods. He would rub his arms when he was getting upset, chew on his thumb when he was concentrating, bounce up and down when he was excited...it was cute. Everything Patton did was cute.

“Sooooo what's up, Ro?” he asked, looking up at him expectantly. Patton was a good foot shorter than him so he often stood on his tiptoes to meet his and Logan's eyes (of course he had to look down with Virgil who was a freaking goblin height wise).

Roman shakes his head. Getting distracted. Come on man, you got this. There's no way he'll turn you down...

He smiles and hopes it isn't obvious that he's actually terrified right now.

“I was just wondering if you would care to join me tonight for a little...outing.”

Patton cocks his head to the side (god he's so cute) and says, “Oh?”

Roman nods. “I've borrowed a memory that I think you'd enjoy revisiting. With me that is. Just me. As in the two us. Together.”

Patton looks confused and Roman doesn't know if he should take that as a bad thing or just a Patton thing. He asks, “Does Thomas need our help for something?”

Just a Patton thing. “Oh no, it's not that at all. It's just for fun! Do you um...remember the trip to New York Thomas took last year?”

Patton seems to think for a second and then he nods. Roman continues, “He didn't have much time to really enjoy himself, we were so busy, but there was the evening he spent with his friends, remember?”

Patton scrunches his eyebrows and frowns, “I uh...yes? I think I know what you're talking about? I mean, Thomas always makes sure to make time for his friends but...”

Ah. He forgot. That was alright, he knew Patton's memory wasn't the best. Roman could see that he was really trying and if he went on for too long without it coming to him, it would start to upset him. The others just had to help him out from time to time with a little nudge which was precisely what Princey was going to do now. Roman raises his hand and gets Patton's attention, he looks up just as Roman places two fingers right in the middle of Patton's forehead. They glow the same dull blue as Logan's power and for a moment Patton's eyes go unfocused, then they light up and  he's grinning. Roman can't help but laugh as he let's his hand fall bringing Patton back out of the vision. Patton actually squeals and exclaims, “Oh yeah! I remember now! We had so much fun that day!” Roman swears that sometimes he can physically feel the warmth from the sunshine he's sure Patton is made of.

“What made you think of this one, Ro?”

Roman smiles and says, “It just...made you really happy. I was reminiscing about it the other day and it lead me to think of you.” He doesn't tell him that he's always thinking about him. It seems like everything reminds him of Patton now.

Patton let's a quite, “Oh.” His cheeks start to flush a light pink and he says, “...just us?”

Roman bites the inside of his cheek to keep the dopey grin that's threatening to break out across his face and nods. “Logan granted me this memory a couple of hours ago so I was thinking, maybe...after dinner tonight? We could just walk around the park for a while?”

Patton nods enthusiastically and says, “I would be happy to join you tonight, Roman!” Prince thinks he was a fool to ever assume this wouldn't go well. The date hadn't even begun and Patton was already this happy, just from the idea of spending time with him.

“Cool. Great. Fantastic. Um...I'll just go then, shouldn’t keep that little monster waiting.”

Patton just nods, too elated to be bothered to scold him for the insult. “I'll...see you later tonight then?” he asks shyly.

“Yes, you most certainly will.”

He bows graciously and that earns him a small giggle and then Roman walks out of Patton's room. He can barely hold in his joy as he practically prances into the commons. Virgil is still sitting on the couch, they meet each others eyes and Roman grins and sticks his tongue out at him. To still secure a date with Patton after all the trouble Anxiety gave him earlier, well, he can't help but rub it in his face a little. Virgil sneers and flips him off and as Roman literally twirls into his room, he just misses the slight smile appear on Virgil's face.

As soon as Roman shuts the door he shrieks and flops down face first onto his bed.

[jessthequeenofstories]

😶

I’m still awake at 6am

My friend is in my bed

I’m lying with my head at the foot and my feet on a chair

Casual

I’m used to being weird

🙃

She keeps half-waking up and poking me with her feet

And I keep scaring her when I move away

But she’s still half asleep so makes a scared noise but forgets about it two seconds later

This is actually hilarious

I’m actually trying not to fucking laugh right now

So I’m just staying up on Tumblr to pass the time

Cause I’m insomniactic anyway

Is that even a word

Will I ever use grammar

I used apostrophes so yeah maybe

That last sentence should have had at least three commas in it

Fuck grammar

Up da arse

And apparently fuck spelling as well

Oh I already established that with the made-up word

Ow she just kicked me

😂

Wanna get up and eat some cake but she’ll think I’m a ghost or something and probably attack me with a cucumber or something

Don’t ask why I have a cucumber in my room

You should be more worried why I want cake while my friend is sleeping next to me

You dirty bastards

So this will be a fun post for her to read when she wakes up

Or fun pussy as my autocorrect just wrote

Ow stop kicking me

Your toe nails are sharp af

I have no nails so

So what

Where was I going with that argument

Not this doesn’t make sense without grammar

Why aren’t I using grammar again

Maybe it’s a rebellion against society

Maybe I’ll start a revolution against the English and their fucked up language with it’s fucked up rules

I’m Welsh after all

So no more grammar

Instead the word baa will be used instead of a full-stop baa

And the name Tom Jones will be used instead of question marks if that’s alright with you Tom Jones

And popty ping will be used popty ping to keep up with the pattern going on here popty ping instead of commas baa

Make sense Tom Jones

Good baa

I’m probably gonna wake her up soon if I don’t stop laughing baa

She told me she’d probably be awake by seven baa

It’s almost half six now baa

I’m waiting baa

Is this grammar getting annoying Tom Jones

It’s dyslexic af popty ping as most of you already know popty ping so it is getting quite annoying for me as well baa

It’s hard to remember where everything goes baa

A bit like having sex really baa

Baa really should not be in the same sentence as sex really

Now that sentence doesn’t make sense if you’re still reading it as a full stop

Period really should not be in the same sentence as sex really

Well that’s a bit true also

Ewww

Unless you’re lesbian vampires then I guess live and let live

If that’s you’re thing I ain’t knocking it

I am legit on the edge of my bed

Fucking toe nails of death edging closer

I feel like I’m in an Indiana Jones film

Or James Bond

Edging closer to the edge of a cliff while spikes urge me backwards

A bit like Elsa and those guards in her ice castle

Well one was being pushed while the other was being impaled

Oh look I’ve been impaled

Oh bother

If you’re wondering why apostrophes never got a Welsh update it’s because I’m not that dyslexic

I know how to use grammar

I’m just being ironic

But I’d look like an idiot to not use apostrophes

So yeah

Point proven

Ironic peace sign

☮

No not that peace sign

✌

Yes that peace sign

Wow I need cake

🍰

More cake

🎂

More

Wait, real cake tho

I can’t eat pixles

I’m not PAC Man

Mostly cause I’m not a man

What is a PAC anyway?

It sounds very racist

Well whatever it is I’m not it

Unless it means dyslexic then yes

I am a PAC

Or Welsh

Then I am a PAC

Or awake at half six in the fucking morning

Then yes

I am

Indeed

A PAC

Man

Minus the man

Omg she curled her legs up

I’m away from the feet

I feel so freed

It feels like the liberation of France

I have so much space

I might even have enough room to turn over to the other side

😮

My god this is a joyous day

This shall go down in the history books

The day I was freed from the torture of toe nails

😄

And nope she just stretched her legs out again

Now I’m gonna have to cancel that party

Sorry no cake for you

Sorry Chuckles maybe you can come for Halloween instead

Just gonna stick a pin in all these balloons

Watch them all pop

Like my personal space bubble

Pop

It is done

There is nothing less

Oh sweet heavenly slumber why hath art forsaken me

Dramatic faint

Oh wait if I’m fainted than does that mean I’m not asleep

Maybe

But how am I typing

Can people sleep-text

I mean people drunk-text all the time and they manage that quite successfully

My mum used to say I sleep-sing

Is that true

Do I really sleep-sing

Of course fucking not I don’t fucking sleep

Or use grammar

Or do anything normally

I have legit spent half an hour of my life writing this post non-stop

And for what reason

Was it to tire me out

Was it to cure my boredom

Was it to make my friend laugh when she wakes up

No

No it wasn’t

I did this all for cake

Sweet sweet cake

And I would do anything for cake

I’d run right into hell and back

I would do anything for cake

Ect ect

I forgot the rest of the song

Meatloaf mf

I’m so fucking bored

Maybe I should write my own song

Or maybe I should sleep

Song it is then

So what should the song be about

Defo not a love song

Unless it’s about my love for cake

Then it that case it should be about a love triangle between me cake and pie

Why pie

Because she’s my cherry pie

And fuck all that rest of the song idkfml

I love how my autocorrect didn’t even bother to suggest a word for that

😂

So maybe the song should be about

Hold you horses she just actually for real tucked her legs up

Halaluhja

Praise the gods above

Or below

Or in the middle

Where you chillin at Gabriel

But omg I’m so fucking happy

I’m alive

I’m insomniactic but alive

I just wanna get up and great the world with a happy smile

Hello sunshine

Goodbye sunshine cause let’s be real this is Britain

Hello rain-clouds

Hello puddles

Hello awkward snail that tries to hug the pavement when I try and move you out from the middle of the pavement

Hello shops that are closed on a Sunday because fuck the milk I need for my morning cup of tea

Did I say morning

Sorry I meant 5 in the afternoon when I finally get the energy to role or of bed

It’s winter of course the sun has fucked of by 5pm

Sorry lad a babe in Australia wants me to kiss her whole body

😚

Does anyone what call freckles sun-kisses

Don’t worry I don’t call them that

My mum calls them that though

She used to tells us that so we wouldn’t feel bad about having them

Mum’s covered in them

Either she’s trying to spread possitivity about freckles or she’s having an affair with the sun

I mean it’s pretty hot

Who wouldn’t bang that

Me

And probably most of the population of the earth

Don’t worry mum you’ve got it all to yourself

But when you’re complaining about how you’re heart burns in desire

Just realise it is actually burning

Yup it actually burns

Burn

Oh my god I’m so bored

I just realised this whole post is like an hour in the life of the brain of Jesse Hester

Wtf

What a title

Screw whatever title I gave this post

That is the official title now

It’s only been there-quarters-of-an-hour

Fuck

You’re only three-quarters the way through this post

Ha

Ha ha

Ha

Bored yet

Cause I sure am

I want cake

I want tea

I want dick

-s like Mr Fedora Guy to fuck off

Ow stop kicking me baa

I’ve decided to start implementing the Welsh grammar again baa

It was creative and fun baa

What popty ping don’t you like it Tom Jones

What’s not to like about it Tom Jones

I thought you loved reading everything in Welsh baa

I’ll try writing in real Welsh then

Helo

I love how the Autocorrect changed it to help

Literally what I’m thinking right now

Helo

Dwi'n Jesse ydw i

Stop trying to capitalise i

It’s a word not the English word

Why do we capitalise I by itself but not the letter A by itself

And why did my Autocorrect decide to keep that I upcapitalised

Questions

I have ten minutes to talk

Fuck I’m slowing down

Never

Capitalise the word never

Because I haven’t actually fully capitalised any words yet

What the fuck is this post

I don’t even fucking know anymore

This was supposed to be just a fun little thing to keep me occupied

But now

Now this is a legend

A legacy

I have seven minutes to keep this up

Even if I feel sleep I can’t give this up

I can’t give up the randomness

I can’t give up the bad grammar

And I will not

For the love of God

Give up the

God

Damn

Cake

Capitalise the word Cake for drama

I love how my autocorrect make cake a person

Cake

Like it’s a name or something

Well Cake is my cakefriend now

We’re official

Don’t worry The Wife™ we’re still legally married

Holy fuck five minutes guys

I honestly don’t know how to end this post

I feel like it should just go out on a bang

But I don’t want to spoil the structure by suddenly adding a gif is something

What can I say

What can I do

Omg so many choices

But non is good enough

God I feel like I’m choosing universities all over again

What am I talking about I only ever wanted to go to this uni

Fuck the others

Three minutes

Holy fuck

Holy mother of fucking

Mothers fuck

Sad but true truth

Ew

I don’t want to think about that

I legit shipped my mum with the sun about twenty minutes ago

Two minutes

Shit shit shit

What do to

What do fucking do

Oh don’t you dare kick me

No

No way

Ugh

What is my life

One minute

Omg

Omgggggggggg

Add as many adjectives beginning with G to that acronym

Jess I love you bae

😘

Love you forever!!! ❤

SEVEN MOTHER FUCKING O'CLOCK